


The Greatest Danger Could Be Your Stupidity

by bell (bellaboo), bellaboo, usomitai (bellaboo)



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-03
Updated: 2003-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/bell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/bellaboo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaboo/pseuds/usomitai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mytho doesn't listen to advice, to Fakir's never-ending frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Danger Could Be Your Stupidity

Advice tended slide off Mytho's much like water does off a duck's back. As much as was poured over him, he would drown in it only for a second or two before coming back up for air, unaffected, and ready for more. Commands stuck a little better, perhaps like oil would stick to a duck. Not that Fakir would know how oil sticks to ducks. He's never tried it. It was one thing to pour water over them, and another altogether to bathe them in oil.

But Fakir was not dealing with ducks or with oil, only with slippery metaphors and a very, very, VERY dumb friend. "Dumb," in this case, was not so much a matter of low IQ-- Mytho's could be anywhere from a single to a tripple digit. A more accurate comparission would be the number of cookies in a jar. If, say, most people had at least twenty (fifteen for friends, two for dessert, and three for that midnight snack), then Mytho's had only one-- to be eaten by the birds. IQ is intelligence. Cookies in the jar is common sense. And disconnected from reality as Mytho was, he had the bare minimum of common sense. Only just enough to not jump into a river for no reason. (Albeit with a bit of cajoling, he would not be adverse to jumping in and drowning.)

Fakir tended to pride himself on how many cookies he himself had. (Though, sadly, he was mistaken. He was estimating somewhere around twenty-three, ie, above average. He may have been born with that much, but time, experience, and his situation had slowly crumbled at least seven of those cookies into crumbs. Which were then eaten by the birds. There were a lot of birds in Kirikanchou, and they were all ravenous. The greedy beasts.) And so, he reasoned, with so many cookies, how could he not share with his best friend/prince?


End file.
